No, no, no.
The operator lowers his weapon slightly.
“Hannah.”
My pulse drops straight into hell.
Hannah goes completely still beside me.
“You know him?” I ask sharply.
She doesn’t answer immediately.
Which is answer enough.
The operator steps farther into the loading dock while bullets still fly outside.
His attention never leaves Hannah.
And suddenly I realize something horrifying.
This man isn’t here to rescue civilians.
He’s here for her too.
The militia commander laughs suddenly from outside near the armored truck.
A harsh, ugly sound.
“Well,” he calls through the gunfire, “this became complicated.”
No kidding.
The black-clad operator finally looks toward me.
Cold eyes.
Emotionless face.
Assessment.
Threat analysis.
Then back toward Hannah again.
“You should come with us now,” he says calmly.
Every instinct inside me detonates instantly.
Absolutely not.
Hannah slowly rises beside me despite my obvious desire for her not to.
“Who are you?” she asks.
The operator studies her silently for one long moment.
Then says quietly—
